


Conversations That Veer Dangerously Close to Being Genuinely Friendly

by helloshepard



Series: prowlcoswave [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Likely Misuse of Statistical Fallacies, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Their relationship might have progressed fromopenly hostiletoprofessionally tolerant bordering on amicable,but Prowl didn’t think he was quite ready for Soundwave to spend the night.
Relationships: Cosmos/Prowl/Soundwave
Series: prowlcoswave [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633282
Comments: 11
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

“Hi,” Prowl said, because what else do you say when you run into a Decepticon in the middle of the night. A Decepticon who is…in your seat.

It wasn’t _technically_ Prowl’s seat. It was one of many benches in the park, tucked neatly behind a fountain. It wasn’t immediately visible from the path, which was why Prowl liked it. But from the bench, it was easy to keep the rest of the park in his limited range of vision.

Soundwave nodded.

It was quiet enough that the only thing Prowl could easily hear was the fountain itself. Soundwave moved over.

Prowl sat. He wasn’t blind—Soundwave was tired. The way he was sitting, how flat his armor lay on his frame…

It’d probably be a better idea to leave him alone. They had barely— _barely—_ moved beyond Prowl’s belief that Soundwave intended to actually hurt him, but that left precious little leeway for an actual conversation that wasn’t about Cosmos or the station itself.

“I can leave,” Prowl said, instead.

Soundwave shifted. He was clearly uncomfortable, so Prowl took a measured half-step back. 

“Stay,” Soundwave said, finally.

It was rare that Soundwave actually _looked_ directly at him—whatever he usually looked at, Prowl didn’t know. Soundwave had tried to explain it, and then _Cosmos_ had. Prowl hadn’t listened. However benign, the concept of someone sharing his headspace was…uncomfortable.

Especially if it was Soundwave.

But Soundwave was looking directly at him. In the dim light, his optics shone.

Prowl wondered if Soundwave ever removed his battle mask.

“The cassettes are gone,” Soundwave said.

“Visiting Cybertron,” Prowl replied, and Soundwave nodded. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw had volunteered to scope out some potential trade agreements, with the caveat that they _didn’t_ spend all their time harassing Starscream and vandalizing the new Autobot Cultural Center. “And Rumble and Frenzy are on Caminus?”

Soundwave nodded again. He seemed reluctant to divulge the root of the issue, so Prowl sat down and puzzled it out.

The answer came in a second. It was confirmed when Soundwave shifted away from him, as if distancing himself would ease the rush of embarrassment. It prickled at the edges of Prowl’s EM field, a sharp burn somewhere deep inside his fuel tank.

“You miss them,” Prowl said. “It’s only natural.”

“Peacetime: invites sentimentality.” Soundwave tapped his fingers against the bench. “Emotional processes: easier to ignore during wartime.”

“Yeah.”

For all he had preached to Optimus about no longer hating the Decepticons, an absence of hate differed from understanding. And _understanding w_ as far, far removed from actual _sympathy_.

“Have they found anyone promising?”

“Merchants, individuals who do not subscribe to the Primacy have expressed interest. Establishing relations with Camiens: far more difficult.”

“Not surprising.”

“Prowl:—” Prowl winced; rarely did Soundwave _say_ his name, and never with such…genuineness. It reminded him of the tone of Bombshell’s voice. “Believes in the deification of Primes?”

 _That,_ at least was a query he could answer.

 _“Optimus_ doesn’t believe in his own godliness,” Prowl said. “It’s not much incentive for me to believe, myself.”

The pattern of his tapping shifted, slowing until it came to a near-stop. “Optimus Prime: expresses disbelief in the Matrix?”

“He believes in its guidance,” Prowl said. “As he understands the need for a symbol for the Autobots to look up to.”

Slowly, Soundwave nodded. Prowl found himself wondering what war-made Decepticons had learned about the Primes and their legacy bathed in blood and brutality. Soundwave had been created before the war, but what about the MTOs who were startling to trickle into the station? Had they ever asked? Had they _known_ to ask, and if they had, would such curiosity have been tolerated?

A few weeks after arriving at the station, he had concluded that what he (and Cosmos) actually _knew_ about Decepticon culture could fit on a half-page of human-sized paper. In the intervening months, they had managed to avoid any full on altercations, by virtue of Cosmos’ natural sarcasm meshing well with the residents and Prowl doing his best to keep all interactions professional.

But it wouldn’t last.

“What about you?” Prowl asked.

“Matrix: may offer guidance,” Soundwave said, slowly. “But the motives of a Prime, his inner circle, will corrupt any guidance it offers.”

The way Soundwave said _circle_ was synonymous with _Senate._

Or _High Command._

“Additionally,” Soundwave was saying. “Signs of Affinity: vague, difficult to test scientifically. Nominus, Sentinel, Zeta. Each exhibited affinity and carried a false Matrix.”

“Isn’t one of the scientists here planning to study that?” A rhetorical question—Prowl had authorized the delivery of two vats of _sentio metallico and a crate of synthesized photonic crystals_ just the other day, after said scientist endured a four-hour reminder on the ethics of (potential) sentience.

Soundwave nodded. “Example of skewed results. Cosmos, Soundwave found _sentio metallico_ wet to the touch.”

It was Prowl’s turn to nod. “An illicit generalization. Due to the insufficient sample, one would assume every mech on this station is Matrix-compatible.”

Again, Soundwave nodded, apparently pleased someone understood. “Every Prime, intellectual, altmode exempt. Manual class, beast former, outlier: incapable of being a Prime?”

“I find it far more likely no one looks— _looked_ —for the Signs of Affinity in them,” Prowl said. It wasn’t something he had ever thought much about, but apparently Soundwave had. “Does it even matter? The Matrix is broken.”

Soundwave didn’t seem surprised.

Maybe Starscream had told him. Or maybe he had pulled that information from Prowl’s mind, all those years ago.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Prowl shifted in his seat.

Soundwave took the hint and moved to the far end of the bench.

“Understanding errors of the past is necessary to prevent future mistakes.” Soundwave said. “Religious figureheads, class system: inferior. Self-determinism: superior.”

Belatedly, Prowl realized that he couldn’t easily see Soundwave from this angle. He turned, angling his blind spot until it was mostly a non-issue.

Soundwave was still looking at him.

“Megatron attempted to contact me today,” Soundwave said, abruptly.

He waited until Prowl had processed that bit of data and gone through the whirlwind of emotions that came with mentioning Megatron.

They didn’t talk about Megatron often.

Besides their shared frustrations with the warlord, and Cosmos artfully changing the flow of conversation whenever it might come up, Prowl couldn’t easily recall the last time he had discussed Megatron with Soundwave.

“About Ravage?”

Soundwave shook his head. “Ravage has been in contact with me. Megatron…wishes to make amends.”

“Do _you_ want to?”

It was a stupid question. Of course Soundwave would want to.

“Unknown. Previously, nothing else was desired. Now…”

Prowl waited, but Soundwave did not continue.

“Can I ask you a question?” Prowl said, instead. Soundwave didn’t speak, but he nodded. “You and Megatron—allegedly—are doing practically the same thing. The only difference is he’s doing it with an Autobot badge and—” Seizing upon a moment of bravery, Prowl reached out and tapped the insignia on Soundwave’s chest.

Another thought occurred to him—his spies and various Decepticon defectors had spoken of the Deceptibrand ritual a dozen times over. The excruciating pain, the spark casing.

The spark casing he was touching.

Prowl jerked his hand away.

“You’re still a Decepticon,” Prowl finished, lamely.

“And?”

“Then why are you still upset with him?”

“Megatron, abandoned Decepticon cause in favor of the Autobots. Abandoned…” Soundwave wavered. “Abandoned Soundwave.”

“Nice to know you’re not taking it personally.” Prowl hoped his voice was light enough that Soundwave would understand it was a joke—as much of a joke as a situation like this warranted.

His hand burned where it had touched Soundwave’s chest.

“…sorry.”

“No offense taken.” Soundwave had turned to face him directly. “Renouncing the Decepticon cause to appease Optimus Prime—inexcusable.”

“So it’s a ‘no’.”

“Ravage: encouraging reconciliation.”

“I see.” Prowl rested his hands in his lap. “So you’re thinking about it.”

“Yes.” In the dim light, Soundwave’s eyes shone. Prowl wondered when the sight had gone from terrifying to mildly intriguing. “For his sake.”

“For his sake.”

It was more of an observation than a question—as far as any living Autobots were aware, Soundwave and Ravage were nearly inseparable.

“Tell me about him,” Prowl said. “Ravage.”

* * *

“Thank you,” Soundwave said, when he was finished. “For listening.”

Prowl inclined his head. The conversation seemed to have come to its natural end. It wouldn’t be improper to offer some neutral farewell and leave.

It was the safest, the expected option.

“Do you want to come to my habsuite?” Prowl said, instead. “I have, uh, drinks.”

* * *

The walk back to his shared habsuite felt very, very long.

Initially, he had gone on the walk to not accidentally wake Cosmos, who was a far lighter sleeper than Prowl anticipated. But Cosmos was still asleep when they arrived, and the quiet whirr of his systems was reassuring, to say the least.

Prowl nodded at the couch—it wasn’t properly sized for either him or Cosmos, but Soundwave sat easily enough. Being a typical human design, there wasn’t any way to scale it up for larger frames. He supposed it was pure luck that the recharge slabs were adjustable.

He left Soundwave sitting on the couch and headed to the dispenser. A double shot of brig-0 mixed into mid-grade was usually enough to put him to sleep, but he doubted it would do the same for Soundwave. Prowl agonized over the multitude of choices for a whole three seconds before selecting a cube of regular-grade energon.

He listened to the hum of the dispenser and quiet trickle as the cube was filled. At this point, sleep was unlikely, especially if Soundwave was planning to spend more than a few minutes here. Their relationship might have progressed from _openly hostile_ to _professionally tolerant bordering on amicable,_ but Prowl didn’t think he was _quite_ ready for Soundwave to spend the night.

The dispenser beeped. Prowl slid the cube out and turned back to Soundwave, only to see the Decepticon had…actually fallen asleep.

“Soundwave?”

No response. But Cosmos shifted, visor blinking online before Prowl had time to regret his words.

“Prowl?”

Prowl froze, as though he might spontaneously develop a cloaking ability if he remained still. Which was stupid—Cosmos _knew_ he was there.

“’s that Soundwave?” Cosmos mumbled. “The hell’s he doing here?”

Prowl opened his mouth and found he had no easy answer.

“Uh,” he said, intelligently, as his processor struggled to come up with an answer that didn’t involve an in-depth summary of the last four hours.

“Sure.” Cosmos rolled over. “Night, Prowl.”

A moment later, Prowl was once again the only one awake.

Giving into wartime habits, he downed the cube and tossed it into the disposal before heading to the small set of storage cubes the apartment had come equipped with. Neither saw much—what few possessions he and Cosmos had were scattered around the habsuite. Instead, he pulled out an insulating tarp, and after a moment of hesitation, draped it over Soundwave’s sleeping form.

This close, he could feel Soundwave’s physical exhaustion, tinged through with dull mental weariness.

Prowl took a clumsy step back. Those few seconds had been enough to cut through his own dull wakefulness. Soundwave wasn’t doing it on purpose, Prowl was certain. If anything, the fact that he hadn’t felt the cloying exhaustion earlier was downright impressive.

He sat on his own recharge slab, fumbling blindly for the cable to connect him to the power bank. Prowl lay back. From this distance, he could hear the hum of Soundwave’s ventilations, a quiet backdrop again the sound of Cosmos’ engine.

Prowl supposed it wasn’t the worst sound to fall asleep to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Soundwave and Cosmos [cuddle].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was supposed to be its own fic, but it's a little too short for that so I just tacked it on to the fic it was supposed to follow. This is 100% fluff.

A fact: Cosmos was a light sleeper. It was a byproduct of his function; he was designed to receive and transmit signals, no matter how faint or unclear.

He’d been partially awoken in the middle of the rest cycle—were it not for the fact that he’d instituted a thorough defrag before shutting down, the faint noise Prowl made when he reentered the habsuite would have startled him into full alertness.

He half remembered Soundwave being there, too. He’d chalked that up to a dream—not that he frequently dreamt about Soundwave, but he _did,_ on occasion, dream about Soundwave.

But Cosmos was wide awake now, wasting the beginning of his off-duty cycles sitting on the edge of the recharge slab and staring at Soundwave, who was fast asleep, and most _definitely_ in their habsuite.

Cosmos snuck a glance at Prowl, who was _also_ recharging. Briefly, Cosmos considered shaking Prowl awake and demanding to know what was going on. The option was considered, and disregarded. Prowl actually looked like he might be at peace, though even in recharge, worry was scrawled all over his faceplates.

He wouldn’t bother Prowl.

Instead, Cosmos stood and walked over to the couch. Soundwave didn’t stir.

“Hey.” Tentatively, Cosmos leaned over and tapped Soundwave on the shoulder. No response.

Cosmos hesitated. He really _shouldn’t_ bother Soundwave—Soundwave had as much trouble sleeping as Prowl did, if not more, and he’d already decided not to wake up Prowl. But if Soundwave was there and Prowl was startled when he woke up…Cosmos didn’t want that, either.

Carefully, Cosmos sat, hoping the close presence of another mech would be enough to rouse Soundwave. Surely his proximity sensors would be alerting him by now—if Cosmos hadn’t switched his off already, his alarms would be doing the same.

The idea that Soundwave might be _faking_ was definitely a possibility, though Cosmos seriously doubted it. There was no _point._

And now he was starting to think like Prowl. Primus.

Cosmos leaned over and pulled up the corner of the tarp that had fallen off Soundwave’s frame. From this distance, he could hear the quiet rumble of Soundwave’s engine. It was strangely comforting. Cosmos wondered when the last time anyone had ever attributed the word _comforting_ to Soundwave.

Seized by a sudden burst of curiosity, Cosmos reached out and touched Soundwave’s shoulder.

This time, Soundwave stirred. Cosmos counted the long moments until the Decepticon’s visor flickered online before speaking.

“Hey.”

Soundwave didn’t respond. He did, however, move closer to Cosmos until he was slotted comfortably against the Autobot’s side before settling back down. Cosmos supposed that technically counted as a response.

“Um, Soundwave.”

“…Cosmos?” Soundwave’s voice was soft.

“Morning.” Cosmos said, for once, finding himself at an utter loss for words. He wondered what he was supposed to do with his arm. He could try and shove it between himself and Soundwave, but that would jostle both of them. Or he could keep it where it was, awkwardly positioned over the back of the couch.

Or…Cosmos supposed it wasn’t the _worst_ thing in the world if he rested his arm on Soundwave’s shoulders. It _was_ what he and Soundwave were working up towards, wasn’t it? It _was_ why he was trying to get used to touching other mechs, the reason he had hugged Prowl all those weeks ago.

They hadn’t done that since.

Cosmos snuck a glance over at Prowl.

Slowly, he lowered his arm.

Soundwave’s only response was a quiet exhale. After a long moment, he got even _closer,_ and Cosmos had to fight the sudden and utterly insensible urge to just pull the Decepticon into his lap.

“Cosmos.”

“Still here.”Cosmos hesitated. “Want me to leave? I can—“

“Stay.”

His spark skipped a beat. Cosmos nodded, though Soundwave couldn’t see it. He gave in, gently tugging at Soundwave’s frame. Soundwave sank into his arms, and Cosmos adjusted the tarp—it was far too small to be pulled over both of them: if they were going to do this again, and Cosmos was quickly realizing he hoped they most definitely _would,_ they’d probably need to find a larger tarp.

Abruptly, it dawned on Cosmos how ridiculous the situation was—he was in a Decepticon commune, _cuddling_ the de-facto leader of the Decepticons, aka Megatron’s former second lieutenant, third in command of the Decepticon army.

“Good ridiculous?”

“Mhmm.”

Soundwave fell silent. His ventilations slowed, then settled. Cosmos fought back a smile. This _was_ ridiculous. And he liked it.

Cosmos settled back on the sofa and shut off his optics.

The day could wait.


End file.
